A single small panel. A letter slips under Maomao’s door. She picks it up. No signature. One line: “The child from the western garden asks about you.” Maomao’s eyes widen. The chapter ends.
The door slides open. Jinshi stands there, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Behind him, Gaoshun holds a rope and a ledger of his own. Jinshi speaks softly, but each word is a blade: “You used palace property, endangered palace staff, and operated outside the law. But…” He glances at Maomao. “You did it for a reason I cannot entirely dismiss.” A single small panel
That night, Maomao sits by her mortar and pestle, not working, just thinking. She stares at a small jar labeled “Aconite – Lethal Dose.” She whispers: “Medicine is a knife. It can cut out a sickness or slit a throat. The hand holding it matters more than the herb itself.” No signature